


Under Your Skin

by p1013



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Cock Piercing, Comeplay, Explicit Consent, Genital Piercing, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Harry Potter, Pierced Draco Malfoy, Piercings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punk Draco Malfoy, Tattooed Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25092058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p1013/pseuds/p1013
Summary: He initials another section and flips the page. Being a junior Auror is a lot more grunt work than he expected, and the paperwork isn't even the worst of it. He's also managed to catch intake duty. It's getting close to 2 AM, there hasn't been a single arrest brought in tonight, and he's still got another six hours before his shift is over. Rubbing a hand over his face, he prays for something, anything, to make the interminable evening better.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 49
Kudos: 474





	Under Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [M0stlyVoid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0stlyVoid/gifts), [onereader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onereader/gifts).



Harry always imagined that being an Auror would be magic duels in dark alleyways, life-and-death chases into the night, potions smugglers and international spy rings and… Well, he imagined it would be exciting and dangerous.

He never imagined all of the goddamned paperwork or the boredom. With a sigh, he flips to the next page in the report he's filling out. It's not even an interesting one, just a recap of a sting that went nowhere last week. Harry wasn't even involved in it, not directly. He'd sat in on one briefing and somehow been appointed the note taker/secretary, and that role had apparently managed to stay attached to him even after leaving the conference room.

He initials another section and flips the page. Being a junior Auror is a lot more grunt work than he expected, and the paperwork isn't even the worst of it. He's also managed to catch intake duty. It's getting close to 2 AM, there hasn't been a single arrest brought in tonight, and he's still got another six hours before his shift is over. Rubbing a hand over his face, he prays for something, _anything_ , to make the interminable evening better.

Of course, that's exactly when his evening morphs from interminable to unbearable. The door to intake bursts open, and a cuffed perp stumbles into the room. His hair is long and so blond, it's almost white. It's partially held up with a braid, but the rest hangs loose around his face, disguising him from Harry. The man's black shirt is faded and falling off of one shoulder. A series of intricate blackwork tattoos cover him from his collarbone to his biceps until they disappear under the white tank top he's wearing underneath the open shirt. His legs are long and encased in black faded jeans that look like they're painted on, ending in a pair of heavy combat boots with just a bit of a heel. There's a ringing in Harry's ears, a high-pitched chime as he takes in the most devastatingly handsome man he's ever seen, and then even that vanishes when the man whips his hair from his face, and all Harry can see is Draco Malfoy, grinning up at Harry from his still hunched over position.

"Potter. Pleasure to see you again."

Before Harry can reply—not that he knows what he'd say, since his ability to speak has left in a wave of heat that feels like the contents of his skull have melted and are leaking from his ears—the arresting Auror, Jones, pushes Malfoy to the desk. "Caught this one loitering outside of the Ministry. Get him booked, Potter."

"Loitering?" Harry swallows. "That's all you're bringing him in for?"

Jones scowls at Harry. "He's got the Mark, doesn't he? Loitering is more than enough." The anger in Malfoy's gaze is banked, but Harry recognizes it from their school days. Jones shoves Malfoy again, pressing his chest into the intake desk. "Get on with it."

"Okay, fine." Harry grabs the requisite forms, then has Jones fill out his name and badge number before taking custody of Malfoy. "C'mon, Malfoy. Let's get you processed."

"Such hospitality," he snarks as Harry grabs Malfoy's bound wrists and takes him towards one of the smaller processing rooms. "If I'd known the welcome would be so warm, I would've gotten myself arrested on trumped up charges ages ago."

Harry can't tell if the headache building is from Malfoy's sass or how well the jeans look on his ass, but it's going to be a hell of a thing once it settles in. "I'm going to get you processed, then I'll take you down to a holding cell. If you have anything on your person that I should be made aware of, now is the opportunity."

"I've got a few things, Potter. Why don't you pat me down and find out for yourself?"

Harry sighs. "I'll be doing that, Malfoy, but if you've got a knife or an extra wand on you, you should tell me now so it's not held against you during your arraignment."

"You sound very official." Malfoy tosses his hair from his face again. "It suits you."

Harry pushes Malfoy into the processing room, then shuts the door behind them. There's a small table with a stack of wire mesh baskets on it, and Harry grabs one.

"Name and date of birth," he says as he pulls his wand out. He casts a quick _Metallum_ spell in preparation for his search of Malfoy's body.

"Ronald Weasley, first of March, 1980."

"Malfoy."

"You've got half of it on your own, Potter. Let's see if you can finish the whole thing."

"You're an arse, you know that, right?" Harry fills in Malfoy's name, then lets out a slow breath. "I don't know your birthdate."

"In the spirit of cooperation with the law, I'll help you with that one. Fifth of June, 1980."

"Wonderful. I'll make sure to put in a good word." Harry raises his wand, then holds it sideways in front of Malfoy. "I'm going to check your body for any metal objects. You may feel a slight vibration from the spell, but that's normal."

He passes his wand across Malfoy's body, and it buzzes as Harry moves it over Malfoy's mouth.

"Open, please," he says, trying to sound professional and feeling anything but. Malfoy opens his mouth slowly. The barbell clacks against his teeth as he extends his tongue. Harry stills, and Malfoy's eyebrow raises.

"Is that what you were looking for, Potter?"

"All metal jewelry has to be removed before putting you in holding," Harry says. "Do I have your permission to proceed?"

"Do I get out of being arrested if I say no?"

"No."

"Then, by all means."

Harry casts a protection spell on his hands, and the uncomfortable feeling of film coating his skin makes him flex his fingers. "Open again, please."

Malfoy acquiesces, his pert, pink tongue hanging from between his parted lips. Harry places his fingers on the top and bottom of the stud and tries not to process the sensation of touching Malfoy's tongue. The metal of the piercing is warm and refuses to give when Harry tries to twist off the ball. His fingertips slip on Malfoy's saliva. Harry pinches the piercing tighter, and then the metal shifts without warning, leaving him feeling heated and off-center as his thumb presses against Malfoy's tongue.

"Sorry about that," he says as he finishes removing the piercing. He _Accios_ an evidence bag, then puts the barbell into it. "Nearly done."

His wand coasts over Malfoy's body and buzzes again when Harry reaches his chest. Malfoy doesn't speak, just leans back, his weight resting on his heels as Harry stares at the now clearly visible ridges beneath Malfoy's tank top.

"Do I have your permission?"

"Of course, Potter. You don't have to keep asking. I consent to the… search."

Christ, Harry's getting hard. He's at work, he's dealing with an impossibly fit Draco Malfoy, and his blood is rushing to an entirely inappropriate part of his anatomy. As he starts reciting Arithromancy formulas in his head and thinking of Hagrid in a negligee, he reaches for the hem of Malfoy's tank and pulls it up.

The tattoos aren't just covering Malfoy's shoulders and arms. No, they're also twined around the planes and ridges of his stomach. Snakes and serpents and dragons, all writhing in a twisted mass across Malfoy's skin. The ink is vaguely different shades of black, some of the tattoos older than others and faded. The newest—Harry can tell from the crispness of the lines and the slightly raised feel of the tattoo under his fingers—is a snake eating its own tail, encircling Draco's belly button.

Which is also pierced.

"Don't miss that one, Potter," Malfoy says with a slightly strained voice. "Wouldn't want to have to go to the trouble later."

Harry glares at Malfoy before shoving the man's tank top up to his neck and holding it there. The white fabric is bunched in Harry's fist, and his fingers tighten when Harry takes in the sight of Malfoy's pierced nipples.

The jewelry isn't ornate or ostentatious, two simple barbells like his tongue piercing. But there's a fine chain trailing between them, the links so small and delicate that Harry couldn't even see them through the thin material of Malfoy's tank. Harry's only got one free hand, and though it's wildly inappropriate, so outside of proper protocol as to be a fireable offense, Harry places one of his fingers to the center of Malfoy's tattooed chest and draws it down until it catches silver thin enough to be thread.

Malfoy's breath catches in his chest. Harry can feel it when he inhales, the chain tugging against Harry's fingertip. He curls his finger, catching the chain and pulling it. Malfoy's nipples draw forward with the metal, and he stutters out a curse.

"Potter." Malfoy doesn't so much as say Harry's name as breathe it. The syllables are heated but faint, and Harry drags the chain forward again, forcing a groan from Malfoy's mouth. "What are you doing?"

"How do I take them out?" he asks, moving the chain as if he's trying to see how it connects.

"There's a"—Malfoy gasps, his hips shifting—"there's a catch. On the side. You have to press it."

Harry reaches for the piercing on Malfoy's left side, and if he catches more of the man's nipple than skin-warmed metal, neither of them say anything about it. He can feel the catch, and he presses against it with just a bit of pressure. It wants to give, he can feel it ready to release, but Harry holds off while he lets his fingers trail over Malfoy's peaked skin just a moment longer. Malfoy groans, and Harry presses the release, then pulls the piercing out before letting it drop. It hangs from the chain, still connected to Malfoy's other nipple.

"Better finish the job." Malfoy swallows, his grey eyes darker than Harry remembers.

Harry hitches the tank up a bit further, then releases the other barbell. The jewelry falls to the ground with a soft ring of metal against concrete, and Harry, his hand still fisted in Malfoy's shirt, bends down to pick up the piercing. It's warm from Malfoy's skin, and Harry places it into the same evidence bag as the tongue stud.

Still crouched before Malfoy, Harry reaches for the belly button piercing and tries not to think about the visible ridge of Malfoy's cock against the front of his jeans. This piercing is a simple hoop, and as Harry twists it free, Malfoy's stomach shifts beneath Harry's fingers. That piercing joins the other two, and Harry lets go of Malfoy's shirt with more than a hint of regret.

He stands and puts his wand away. "All right, Malfoy. I'll take you down to holding now."

"You're not done."

"I've got your paperwork ready, and there's a cell waiting. That seems pretty done to me."

"That isn't all of my piercings, Potter. I thought you had to take them all out."

"I… Wait, what?"

Malfoy smirks and leans back against the low table with his hips. With his arms still bound behind his back and his back arched, it draws Harry's eyes to the front of his jeans. "You can use your spell for confirmation, Potter, but there are a few more left."

Harry swallows, but his mouth is full of dust and painfully dry. "A few…"

Malfoy smirks and doesn't say anything more.

The _Metallum_ spell makes Harry's wand buzz in his hand, and as he holds it in front of Malfoy's body, his palm sweats inside the protective spell coating his hand. He starts at Malfoy's chest, then draws his wand lower and lower until he nears the waistband of Malfoy's jeans. Harry knows he has to move the wand lower, knows exactly where Malfoy's remaining piercings have to be, but he doesn't know if he'll be able to live with the confirmation or the way it's going to ruin his life after.

Then he moves his wand lower, and it starts buzzing. Malfoy's hips jerk off of the table, and he curses. Harry knows he should move his wand away, the spell's work already done, but instead he holds it in place while Malfoy's writhes against the table, his hips lifting in aborted thrusts.

"Problem, Malfoy?" Harry asks, though his voice is rough and doesn't sound as confident and mocking as he wanted it to. It sounds needy.

"Damn it, Potter." Malfoy's hips lift again, and he moans, long and low. "This is Auror brutality."

"Seems you like a bit of brutal."

"Fuck."

Harry dispels the charm and sets his wand aside. And though he should keep the protective spell on, he removes that as well. It's wrong, but he wants to know the feeling of Malfoy's skin beneath his fingers, no barriers between them.

Malfoy's jeans have a button fly, and Harry takes longer than he should to pull the metal discs through their holes. The fabric gapes slowly, pushed open by Malfoy's erection until the fly falls open and Malfoy's cock, encased in thin cotton pants, presses forward. Harry can make out the ridges of metal beneath it, three enticing lines running parallel down the underside of Malfoy's cock. Harry presses a finger against the one closest to Malfoy's cock head, and the metal and skin and fabric are warm and wanting beneath his touch.

"Merlin." Malfoy shifts, forcing Harry's finger to rub against the piercing. "You're a tease, aren't you?"

"I'm an officer of the law." Harry shifts his touch so his palm is pressed against the hard, hot length of Malfoy's cock. He cups it for a moment, and then he pushes, the metal biting against his flesh. Malfoy curses, sharp and quick.

"Do I have your permission?" Harry asks, his hand warm against Malfoy's body.

"Yes. God, yes."

Harry wants to smile, wants to laugh, wants to feel something other than the heat pouring through him. Instead, he swelters and parts the flap in the front of Malfoy's pants. The first glimpse of pale, reddened skin and the glint of metal has Harry's prick pulsing in his uniform trousers. He should regret this and the risk he's taking, but all he can think of is seeing more.

With more confidence than he's feeling, Harry draws Malfoy's cock free. There are three barbells—identical to the ones through Malfoy's tongue and nipples—in a row along the underside of Malfoy's shaft. Harry can make out the bars through the thin skin, stretched tight by how hard Malfoy is. Harry wants to put his mouth on them, to press his tongue against the metal, to taste the tang of it with the salty hint of Malfoy's skin. He wants to know what they’d feel like as Malfoy opened Harry up with his cock, if they'd press against Harry's prostate while Malfoy fucked him from behind, his tattooed arms wrapped around Harry's throat and waist, pulling his back into an almost painful arch.

He starts at the top of Malfoy's shaft and traces the edges of the barbells. With how hard Malfoy is, Harry has to force his fingers around the balls at the end of the jewelry, and Malfoy hisses in a breath with the touch. The first one comes off easily, and Harry adds it to the collection of metal in the evidence bag by his feet.

The hole the piercing was in is hard to make out, the thin skin pulling tight as soon as the metal is removed. Harry runs his fingers over it with a steady but firm pressure. "Did it hurt?" he asks, and he feels Malfoy's prick twitch as Harry's breath brushes over his skin. He doesn't know when he got close enough that his words would touch Malfoy's skin, but he doesn't withdraw.

"A bit." Malfoy rolls his hips, head thrown back. "Hurts now. You should kiss it better."

Harry wants to. It would be so easy to lean in just another inch, to press his lips to Malfoy's heated flesh. Instead, he drags his fingers down to the next piercing and starts removing it.

"Potter." Malfoy groans. "If you don't do something about this, I'm going to file a complaint."

"You should file a complaint anyway," Harry says as he pulls the second barbell free. "You have grounds."

"I want to fuck your face." Malfoy's voice is vicious. "I want your lips around my cock. I want you choking on it."

"Do you now?"

"You want it, too. I see you, Harry." Harry looks up quickly. He thought his robes had hidden his own erection, but when he catches Malfoy's storm-grey eyes, he knows that's not what Malfoy's talking about. He can see the heat and the hunger in Harry, can see that it matches the same hunger in Malfoy. "Why don't you give us what we both want?"

Harry exhales against the underside of Malfoy's cock. Precome seeps from the head, a pearly white bead that begs Harry to taste. He presses his thumb against it, smears it around Malfoy's cock head, then down over the empty spaces the first two piercings left. When he reaches for the third, his fingers are tacky with come.

"Last one," Harry says. He pulls on the barbell like he'd pulled on Malfoy's nipples, and the man's hips jerk off of the table. "Sorry, did that hurt?"

Malfoy growls. "Potter, so help me, when I get out of this _Incarcerous_ …"

"I think you like it." Harry flicks the barbell, making Malfoy hiss and his prick leak again. "I think you don't want me to be gentle with you."

Malfoy throws his head back, and his eyes no longer locked on Harry feel like freedom—like permission. Though he knows he shouldn't, Harry leans in and presses the flat of his tongue against the underside of Malfoy's cock, the tip just touching the final barbell with the head resting against the center of Harry's tongue. He could lean forward just a bit more and take it all into his mouth, and with the way that Malfoy's body has stilled, Harry knows that Malfoy wants it. Harry does, too, but he licks up Malfoy's cock instead, catches a hint of come on the tip of his tongue, and pulls away.

"Fuck." Malfoy lifts his hips after Harry's retreating mouth, eyes shut and head still bent back. The line of his neck is pale and gorgeous, and Harry wants to mark it, to leave bruises like tattoos along the bare expanse of skin.

Instead, he brings his hands back to Malfoy's cock. It's slick with Harry's spit, and his fingers glide against the skin, though it dries fast. The friction doesn't seem to bother Malfoy in the least, his cock slowly seeping precome as Harry continues to work the pads of his fingers up and down the underside. The only pressure comes from Harry's delicate touch and the tensed muscles of Malfoy's stomach. As he moves his fingers up and down, Harry reaches for the last barbell with his other hand and twists, shifting the metal beneath Malfoy's skin.

"Oh, fuck. Potter." Malfoy looks down at Harry like it pains him. His eyes are half-lidded, mouth open as he fights for breath, and Harry feels like he's the one falling apart instead of Malfoy. "I'm going to…" Grey eyes close. "Please."

Harry curls his fingers, takes the weight of Malfoy's cock in his hand, and draws his hand up along the shaft to cup the head in his fist. With quick, circling motions, he strokes Malfoy's glans. The palm of Harry's hand grows wet and warm, easing the way. Malfoy tries to thrust into his grip, but there's nowhere for him to go, and he curses and shakes.

"Last one," Harry says again as he takes the piercing in his fingers again and pulls. "Almost done, Malfoy."

"God. Oh, God. Potter."

Harry pulls, firm and steady, on the final piercing. Malfoy lets out a deep groan and his body bows over, stomach muscles clenching and spasming as his balls draw up high and tight. His come fills Harry's palm, then oozes out between his fingers, running over the top of Harry's hand to drip down his wrist. It's hot and wet, and Harry's never going to forget the feeling of Malfoy's pleasure falling through his hands to land on the floor between them.

Hand still wet and painted white, Harry takes the final piercing out. He puts it in the evidence bag and does his best to not smear the plastic with Malfoy's semen. It would be a simple matter to clean his hand off. He could cast a _Scourgify_ wandlessly or make use of the tissues in the processing room. But he puts his hand into his robe pocket instead, knowing that Malfoy's come will dry there, hard and cracking. Harry won't be able to remove it from his skin later, not because he can't, but because he doesn't want to.

"A little help here, Potter," Malfoy pants, tilting his head towards his spent cock that's already softening and hanging from the opening of his pants. He's a picture of debauched ease, hands bound behind him, tank rucked up around his waist, jeans and pants open around his hips. The last thing Harry wants to do is put Malfoy to rights, but there's a holding cell waiting for him, and it shouldn't take this long to process a perp. Harry steps between Malfoy's thighs and efficiently tucks the man's prick away, does up the buttons, rights his shirt, and steps back.

"C'mon, Malfoy." Harry's voice is steady. "Time to go."

Malfoy doesn't say anything.

* * *

The rest of Harry's shift is a lesson in frustration. Harry vacillates between gut-clenching desire and gut-clenching fear, all of it brought on by memories of Malfoy's pierced and tattooed body spread before him like an offering. Harry's been hard ever since, and all he wants to do is go home, take himself in hand, and toss himself off with Malfoy's come still trapped in the spaces between his fingers. His eyes are bleary and dry, his body on a painful edge, and when he sees his replacement walking through the doors, Harry nearly cries in relief.

"Auror Williams," Harry says as he stands. "Good to see you. Only had one prisoner come through last night, so there's no paperwork for you to deal with. Have a good shift. I'll see you around."

"In a rush, Potter?"

Harry whirls around at Malfoy's voice, his body going first cold, then blazingly hot.

Malfoy isn't wearing jeans and a tank anymore. Instead, his lean, lithe body is wrapped in the robes of the Unspeakables. He's covered from his neck to his wrists, his tattoos hidden beneath severe black, but Harry remembers each and every one of them.

"Malfoy. I don't… You're a… Aren't you?"

"I am, and I _was_ ," he says, stepping closer, "and now I'm not. On your way home?"

"Yes." It's choked out.

"As am I. Perhaps you'd like an escort. A professional courtesy, of course."

"Of course."

"We'd never be anything but professional, would we, Potter?"

He swallows. "No."

"Have a good day, Harry!" Williams says, clearly not picking up on any of the tension quickly filling Prisoner Intake.

"Oh, he will," Malfoy says with a grin that reminds Harry of glinting metal. "Do I have your permission, Auror Potter?"

Harry curls his hand, thinks of metal through skin and black ink on pale flesh. His cock aches. 

"Yes."

**Author's Note:**

> For the lovely Bella and Lis. I am always asking you to beta for me, so I thought you deserved a treat.
> 
> Big thanks to moonshout for the pinch hit edit ♥
> 
> Inspired by this [gif](https://imgur.com/gallery/Pgc7C5v). I went a bit dirty with it.


End file.
